Draco Malfoy Discovers Fanfiction
by NectarAndAmbrosia
Summary: So what does he do when he sees all those odes to HIM, the Slytherin sex god? And when he finds himself paired with that nasty Granger girl, his MOTHER?...and Potter! Why, he reacts, of course! Alludes to existing fics & rated T for suggestive material..
1. Chapter 1

**Draco Malfoy Discovers **

"So do we tell Draco?" grunted Crabbe, still gaping in wonder at the lists of stories that were listed. Strangely enough, their mutual friends appeared at least twice on each page, always featuring in some epic love story involving, of all people, either the Weasley girl or that Granger bucktooth.

Goyle nodded ten more times than was necessary, because apparently it took Crabbe ten more nods than was necessary to comprehend the positive reply. "Duh," he said, wishing to express Crabbe's stupidity but ending up artfully showing his own nature. "Let's do it."

To his surprise five seconds later (it always took them that long to understand new ideas), Crabbe's face twisted into one of utter horror. "Don't say things like that!" he hissed, grabbing his best friend as he choked, by the collar. "Those-those ruddy _fanfiction_ writers will make anything out of even something in-sent like that."

"Yeah," grumbled Goyle, grudging getting up to his feet. "Leave the computer thing on while I go get Draco." And he left, returning several short minutes later (for the purpose of this story, because the author, in this circumstance, does not wish to go through the trouble of describing a tedious journey that took forever) with no other than Draco Malfoy himself, who swaggered in enjoyably, his light gray gaze flickering up in alarm to the Muggle contraption with the silvery screen.

"What've you got there?" he asked, stopping in his tracks. Draco bent down to examine the sides of the thing. "Is this…is this some Muggle filth?" he sneered, rapping it smartly on the screen. "They aren't supposed to work within Hogwarts either, my father said-"

"They will now work for the purpose of this fanfiction story," boomed Goyle in a surprisingly full and deep voice. "Because there is no better environment for us all to pore over this nonsense otherwise. By the way, the author sends a disclaimer to her probably meager audience since most people take offense to this kind of thing that she owns nothing of Harry Potter, and J.K. Rowling does. Just as well, she does not claim to own any stories or authors mentioned in this work. In fact, they should be totally flattered that she would care enough about them to include them at all, thank you very much. And if they react negatively, it is simply theirs, not mine. In fact, I harbor a deep and passionate love for many and most of the fanfic works I will allude to in this. Of course, there is the ever slight possibility that I don't and am simply lying to gain credibility, but what would you know about that anyway? (inserts hearty chuckle) This is only for comical purposes, and she also includes the altered fact that electronics will successfully operate within Hogwarts boundaries and that Crabbe and Goyle will have managed to get hold of a laptop computer (a Mac, in case you care) without consequence, just for this purpose."

Crabbe and Draco stared, only too skeptical.

"WTF," uttered Crabbe monotonously.

"Confundus," Goyle said with whiplash speed, whipped out his wand and performed extraordinarily difficult spellwork on his friends, making them jerk back in dreaminess and surprise. "You will believe all that."

And so they were brainwashed, and the story could begin.

"So, Draco," crowed Crabbe, rubbing his heavy hands together. "Look what we've found on the Int-nit!" He gestured zealously towards the screen, squinting at a small blue link that read 'Love me, Hate Me' by a certain 'Vampander'.

"What?" Draco Malfoy strolled closer to the computer screen and snatched the laptop away from his crony. "I'm in-in love with the-with the…Mudblood?!" He whipped one hand up to his face in terror. "Who wrote this?"

Crabbe and Goyle simply sat dumbfounded to ensure Draco's continued reaction because imagine if I'd made them react, then they would all probably have to have some kind of idle conversation about beans or whatnot and lead us all away from the reactions of Draco! Which, well, obviously is what we strive for more of.

He dragged the laptop back onto the desk, light gray eyes narrowing in suspicion as he began to survey the dormitory room. "Who did that?" he snarled, checking the door for possible intruders. "Was it Potter? Weasley?"

Draco breathed hard, all the while attempting to compose himself. "No, and it couldn't have been Weasley…he's in love with that Mudblood, anyone can see that…Potter? I don't think he's half as clever as that to come up with a ruse like that…"

He stopped. "Search her! The author!" he snapped, when his bodyguards looked stunned.

A minute later, Goyle looked up sorrowfully. Notice how I alter the characters of Crabbe and Goyle as needed. Obviously it would grow quite bland if either Crabbe or Goyle acted as Draco's only correspondent. "Just…normal stuff," he said apologetically, shrugging a little dumbishly.

Just then, and coincidentally because the author willed it, the door flew open. I say flew because that marks a dramatic entrance, not a lame one. Anyway…

Theodore Nott stood in the doorway, looking both clever and unimpressed at the same time. He raised an eyebrow dryly to acknowledge them before Crabbe whipped out his wand with ferocity and roared, "Imperio!"

The jet of red light missed Nott by two feet (because, well, he ducked two feet, see, and it landed where his head had been…) and he stood rooted to the spot with his jaw open, and wand clenched tightly. "What are you playing at, Crabbe?" he asked slowly, looking absolutely prepared to react but shocked all the same.

Crabbe shrugged just as Goyle drew out his wand (although, according to clear logic, he wouldn't have to do, because nowhere does the author mention him stowing his wand away after he confounded his friends…however, it does him merit to have more drama in taking it out to demonstrate his sheer and awesome speed) and shouted, "Imperio!"

It hit, and as if suddenly clarified on some hard topic, Nott stumbled forward and analyzed the screen, because we needed his supposed cleverness that J.K. Rowling talks about so many times in interviews to keep the plot going. "And look," he exclaimed, although we have never heard Nott exclaim, but since we really haven't heard him do anything much at all, who cares. "There's one entitled Too Close For Comfort by BeyondBelief01 about you forcing to share a ho-hoe- er, forgive me, hotel, with that Weaselette."

Draco, who had been silent all this time either as a result of shock or because the author wished to shift the spotlight to other events, suddenly sprang back into action, recoiled in disgust. "What?" he demanded, crossing his arms shakily. "You're kidding…" His voice shook with repulse. "Okay, so…so we-we…we do what?" He asked this in a tone that implied he would immediately commit suicide after hearing the answer.

Nott, clever as he was, sensed this attitude and straightened carefully. "Well, it's not that bad," he comforted in a tone that suggested he probably didn't care either. "You just…" He cautiously clicked on the link and his shoulder visibly sagged in relief. "No, you don't end up…you know…having sex, but you do exchange suggestive insults as either side attempts to stay immune to the attraction of the other."

Draco shuddered and gritted his teeth. "Any other ridiculous situations like this?" he threw out casually, wondering if Weasley should see him now…withering in his own misery…but that was lucky for him. Not as if Weasley would be paired with that intolerable Ginny Weasley. But of course those…those crazy fanfiction writers would surely stop at incest. That was a plus.

"Well, there are those in which you get raped and beaten by ah, your father," said Nott calmly while Crabbe and Goyle snickered.

Draco yelped in pure terror and clung to a bedpost, quaking in fear. "I'll be…writing to father about this…" he breathed heavily, backing into the furniture.

"Hey, get off my bed," said Nott suddenly, seeing Draco's approach into his own fluffy-clean bed. Theodore could be very particular about sanitary matters like this.

But he just screamed and stumbled backwards again. "No, no!" he screeched, shaking his white blonde head that fanfiction writers are so famous for lovingly describing (cough, I should know) and backing into Crabbe's bed. "Don't say that kind of stuff!"

Nott simply looked amused now that the threat that had impended his bed was removed. "Ah, let's see," he said wickedly with relish. "You've been paired up with that Granger girl too…"

Crabbe leaned forward and jabbed a hard finger. Oh my, forgive the possible reference perverted readers could make to something else long and…okay, but that's neither here nor there. Well, actually it's there, but that's not my point. "Here's one!" he stated triumphantly, glad to see Draco out of control for once. "The Heart of a Woman," he read slowly, sounding out each syllable.

"Yeah," grunted Goyle happily, secretly reading the story and self-inserting himself as Draco where necessary. "You're bound by magic to her."

Draco winced and moaned as if his arm had been truly broken all over again. "No, please," he gasped as if he were drinking the Horcrux cave potion. Handy simile, eh?

They pretended not to hear his loud and obvious heart wrenching pleas.

"Bewitched Bewildered Beloved…" mused Nott thoughtfully, the mouse arrow lingering on the link. "I don't know about this one…by now I seem to prefer the fanfics where Malfoy and Granger have been forced into something rather than using their own choices…hmm…those are so much simpler to resolve into love. Oh look…in Chicken Pox, they're stuck in the same room together…"

"Mother," groaned Draco, his broken body sprawled (rather sexily, don't you imagine?) on the ground, his pale hands clutching at the green and silver bed drapes of Goyle's four-poster.

At this point, Goyle whispered something gruffly about character and genre filters, causing Nott to gasp in pleasure. Woah there…no need to quicken your breath, is there? Oh wait, you wouldn't have. Because Goyle isn't a very sexually provocative character now, is he? Anyway, Nott now brightened tremendously and seized the nearest chance to filter out…certain people.

"Hey, look, Malfoy," he crowed loudly, waving his arms in some kind of celebration jig. "You have an intense relationship with Narcissa? No wonder you have the same last name-"

But this was enough for Draco. He narrowed his light gray eyes and stood up, swaggering forward intimidating. "You shut up about my mother," he said coldly, knuckles white against his wand.

"Ah, well, fine," said Nott half-heartedly, trying to conceal the fact that there…well, weren't any Narcissa and Draco incest stories that he could see…yet, at least. He checked something different and could hardly believe his luck.

"What?" said Draco sharply, trying to get to the laptop. Sadly, he was restrained by guffawing a Crabbe and Goyle.

"Potter!" Nott bawled with delight, grasping the edges of the desk in order to stay somewhat in control. "Potter! Potter!"

"So Potter has his own fair share of nasty pairings, does he?" returned Draco smugly, sliding back into his composed, smooth manner.

"Yes!" gasped Nott, tears falling down his cheeks. "He does! With you!"

"Avada Kedavra!" howled Draco, aiming his wand at the laptop screen in a way reminiscent of Walburga Black blasting family members of the Black family tapestry.

But being the nonliving object it was, the laptop simply sat there, infuriatingly undamaged. It even blinked several times in defiance.

"Hey, that's illegal," Nott reprimanded huffily, glaring at his friend.

"On fellow human beings," said Draco scornfully, his slim fingers still trembling with sheer rage that begged to be let out. "So what rumors does it spread about me having secret trysts with Potter? We're forced into a gay marriage that has trouble being accepted by even the United States government, let alone the Ministry of Magic for Great Britain?"

Goyle sniffed. "Hey, what if I'm gay too, Draco? Don't talk so rudely."

Draco took an involuntary step back. He had always assumed that Crabbe and Goyle acted as bodyguards guarding his…well, body only because they were too stupid to do anything else but follow. It had never occurred to him that they could've been doing this all these years for…for-Draco shuddered to think of it- _benefits_. "No, no" he said earnestly, almost choking on his own emotions, "I wasn't…not being mean. Just realistic about public attitudes."

As Goyle shrugged, Nott suddenly sat up straighter in his chair. You should know well enough by now that he was not…yeah. "Hey, are you sure these aren't true, Malfoy?" he asked meaningfully. "Because this…I think the term is, _slash_, fiction, is pretty well written."

Draco didn't even dare to inquire as to what the name and content was. "Yeah, wonderful," he announced sarcastically, flipping his hands into the air. "So I have love interests in Potter, Granger, my mother, my father, and even the Weaselette, so I'm guessing Weasley himself would be no exception-"

"You're right!" said Crabbe in amazement. Draco simply ignored him and drawled on loudly.

"-because he would certainly be craving my attentions under even normal circumstances, so he'd be actually glad in the fanfiction or whatever that stuff is," he said in annoyance. "But my one complaint is that they discriminate. Why me? Why not you, or-or you, or-"

"An unexpected surprise?" suggested Nott, his eyes glued on the screen.

"You are, then?" Draco paused to ask curiously, looking incredulously satisfied.

"Uh, with you, and each other," admitted Crabbe, having the audacity and female-ness to blush. Hey, not that I'm targeting on that gender…males can blush too, obviously.

Draco cringed inconspicuously but drew back all the same. So there was…

"And I've been paired up with you on several occasions too," said Nott glumly, his fingers tracing the mouse absently. "And you've gotten Zabini too…but what I'm trying to say is that DreamzAndMyths wrote a thing about you and that Loony Lovegood-"

Draco flushed delicately. "Will you stop staring at that thing and drinking in its lies?" he ranted, eyeing the room.

"You know," Nott was musing now, stroking an imaginary/invisible beard. "You truly are a complex character in these fanfictions. Nott only are you hot, but you're also sexy. And handsome. And charming, as well as persuasive, and intelligent, and all…see, like, sometimes you can really angsty too-"

"Like Potter," Draco snickered.

"-but Crabbe and Goyle have no distinct personalities-"

"Yes we do," chanted Crabbe and Goyle at the exact same tims, beat for beat. Of course, while this has absolutely no possibility of occurring in actuality, the author inserts this as a private joke, secretly hoping that people will laugh at this, just like she thinks that people will review, although they never do…

"And quite frankly," delivered Nott, rising from the chair. "I envy you."

"Who doesn't?" replied Draco smoothly, but still shaken from the experience. All of a sudden, the laptop shrinks into a beetle and scampers away as fast as lightning.

"What?" complained Nott, glaring accusingly at Crabbe and Goyle, who shook their heads in-sent-ly.

Suddenly, Goyle once again whipped out his wand without any warning, declared, "Stupefy!" and knocked out Nott. As Draco reacted violently to this, reaching down to grab his friend's fallen wand so that he might have more protection, Crabbe sneaked up on him from behind and knocked him flat as well. The Muggle way.

Why? Well, you see, my dears, the writer, quite frankly, is hungry and wishes to conclude this segment. She currently plans to continue with this in more chapters, but of course if she receives no sign of this through reviews and such…then…well, I can't exactly threaten you with no continuation then, can I? Because then apparently, due to the extraordinary lack of reviews, you obviously don't care and it wouldn't suffice to have that used against you…If the next chapter gets put up, then…well, perhaps they will discover the startling amount of long-lost brothers, sisters, twins, and cousins Draco has that no one knew about. And who is this Scorpius Malfoy, who seems so certain to exist?

Oh gosh. I sound like a ranting soap opera announcer from the sixties (gags). Urgh. But fine, because I shall conclude shortly anyway. Like, now. So, yeah. Yup.

No, really. It's over.

Honestly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Evidently, this is the second part. Allow me to say "duh".**

**The Discovery Continues**

"Look!" gasped Crabbe, pointing to a little silver laptop computer that had suddenly flickered into existence on the common room armchair. Except that being Crabbe, his gasp sounded like a grunt anyway. And you just don't grunt in surprise for effect.

Which is why Goyle did not turn to look until ten seconds later. But of course, maybe he was just waiting until Crabbe had grunted all this for the tenth time. Still, when he did, he did a double-take and clutched his heart. Except that being Goyle, he mistook his heart for being on the right side of his chest instead of his left. But this was all very well, because the next moment, he said hoarsely, "I don't believe it, Crabbe. It's back!"

To a normal somebody, this would have been stating the obvious, but being Crabbe, he furrowed his brow and scratched his head, obviously of the belief that scraping one's fingernails along one's scalp would in some way quicken one's brain. "Uh, do we tell Draco?" he suggested, finally getting there.

At this point, Goyle opened his mouth to reply with another slow-witted comment that would evidently not proceed this story's plot anywhere, so the irritated author decided to intervene. Instead of his usual dumbness, Goyle came out with, "Good idea!"

The gleeful author also came to the conclusion that if left to their own devices, Crabbe and Goyle would never locate Draco Malfoy. So for their sake, at that moment a smooth-looking Draco Malfoy swept into the dungeons, his customary white blonde hair as sleek as ever. There was also a strut in his step. One can assume that his memory of the previous fanfictions we last examined had been somehow modified by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Draco!" grunted Crabbe, pointing to the laptop. "It's back!"

Draco looked curious, walking over. "What's that?" he said distastefully, eyeing the laptop suspiciously. He had evidently forgotten that it had appeared last time. "Isn't that some Muggle-"

Sighing, Goyle plucked his wand off the table and directed it at Draco, quickly modifying his memory so that the recollections came soaring back into his mind.

He looked horrified. "No," said Draco decisively, making to get away, but he was automatically stopped by Crabbe's iron-hard fist closing around his wrist. "Get away from me!" he said in terror, jerking his arm. "Father will hear about this!"

Crabbe grinned brutishly, which is to say, he looked even more creepy and unintelligent. "Not if you die first," he said menancingly.

Draco's eyes darted from Crabbe to Goyle. He could practically feel their waves of dimness transferring onto him, for he could think of no single reason why he might suddenly die. "Why?" he asked shakily.

Goyle cracked his knuckles. You see, he had a calcium deficiency as well as a brain cell deficiency. "Because," he said thrillingly, "If you break the Unbreakable Vow, you die!"

Draco froze temporarily in his confusion. "What Unbreakable Vow?" he demanded.

Crabbe now spoke, because it was his turn. The author insists on alternating the two thugs for variety. "The one you made on how you would do everything we told you to do when the comp-comp-" He tried again. "Comp-you-ter!"

Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously, wondering if this was a lie. He could remember no such thing. But then again…he hadn't remembered the actual fanfiction-carrier thing either, he thought, watching it loathingly.

"Good!" crowed Goyle, rubbing his hands. "Hey, Nott!" he grunted. The grunt carried across the room to where Theodore Nott was lazily reading _Intermediate Transfigurations_ on another armchair.

"What?" he asked, visibly annoyed that his reading had been disrupted. As he came closer, Crabbe surreptitiously modified his memory as well, but instead of the negative reaction provided by Draco, Nott positively oozed glee. "It's back!" he shouted joyfully. This time, they didn't even need the Imperius Curse. Nott turned to Draco, the happiness on his face fading as he saw his sulky and murderous expression. "Lighten up," he scoffed, grabbing the laptop and setting it on his lap. "Ohhhh, my, you don't know how long I've waited to read the next update on this…" He skimmed several pages carefully before delightedly clicking on a story entitled _Incandescence_ by a certain Lomonaaeren.

"So what's that?" sneered Draco, folding his arms. "Another one of my escapades with Granger?" He mimed someone gagging, but found that it came naturally, not shockingly.

"No, no," said Nott distractedly, already on the second half of the story. He was devouring it quite quickly. "With Potter. Who else?"

"Who else?" repeated Draco, revulsion tugging him away from the screen. "Are you kidding? Of all the girls in the world, they give me Potter?"

"Hey." Nott suddenly turned away from one of the more racy scenes and looked at his friend with interest. Hey, calm down, I never said sexual interest…gosh. "How did you know about all the other Potters?" he asked accusingly. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle nodded in agreement. I mean, it's not like they could do anything else.

"Other Potters?" Draco blanched. "You mean there's clones of him I end up with?" he asked in defeat.

Goyle made a noise that suggested he was unimpressed with Draco's current display of intelligence. This guy has high standards, see.

Meanwhile, Nott was shaking his head impatiently. Now _he_ has a right. "No, no," he said again, waving them off. "I meant his other relatives that we never hear about?" When his audience continued to look puzzled, Nott rambled on in a clear voice. "Like here, for instance," he said passionately, wanting to explain but not able to penetrate certain thick skulls. "Hillary Lilly Potter, Harry Potter's twin, separated from him at birth."

Draco looked appalled. There was a little silence, and then he said exasperatingly, "No, I was joking in talking about a female Potter. Obviously he lacks the manliness I inherited from Father."

Crabbe looked wounded. "Do I?" he asked meaningfully, looking as if he would only accept one answer.

"You're good," said Draco hastily, making a mental note to _scourify_ his mouth later.

Nott stood up, rather mad that everyone was bored. So he resorted to do what no one else had ever done before in a feeble attempt to garner some attention. He said loudly, "I'm going to take off my shirt."

Crabbe and Goyle's impossible speed in whipping around was reminiscent of the speed at which Albert Einstein's brain ticked.

"Okay, I'm not," said Nott authoritatively, glancing at Draco's tightly shut eyes. "Draco, you can come out now."

Being frightened to near death already, Draco moaned and screamed, taking it as innuendo. "I was never in!" he screeched loudly.

Nott looked disgusted. "Excuse me?" he asked incredulously.

Crabbe, meanwhile, looked as if he had been granted the treat of his life. In order not to sick out the reader to death (and failing to think of anything gross enough to suffice), the author simply left out what that was, hoping childishly that the readers would simply take this as a passing statement and not be concerned with Crabbe's hidden true nature.

Draco muttered something mutinously under his breath and then looked up at the other three, his bloodshot eyes looking an awfully lot like Kreacher's. "Why do you do this to me?" he pleaded, crawling on all fours to Goyle and seizing the hem of his robes. As Goyle got ideas in his head, Draco quickly released it but continued to grovel all the same. "Please," he whispered, looking broken. "I'll do, uh-" He remembered the speed that Goyle had used in wanting to see a shirtless Nott and shivered involuntarily. "I'll do almost anything," he amended lamely.

Goyle's eyes took on a pigishly calculating gleam, and that, I tell you, is quite a difficult thing to master. "Ah ha!" he shouted, snatching the laptop away from a protesting Nott. "Anything?" Seeing Draco nod, stricken, Goyle chuckled. "All right," he announced. "You will be forced to do anything Crabbe or I command from now on until whenever we release you from this bond."

Draco stared, more surprised that Goyle had used correct grammar than anything else. But then again, of course, that quote was just another, ah, nudge from the author in order to progress the plot, see…she has no intention of confining this supposedly more exciting second segment to more screaming and moaning in the Slytherin dungeons.

Nott looked miffed. "Hey!" he complained, left out. "What about me?"

Crabbe paused and browsed the site for a few seconds. "Your most frequent pairings are with Lovegood, Granger, Greengrass, Draco, and Potter," he announced, looking up.

It was Nott's turn to look utterly frightened. "Don't go on," he commanded weakly, fumbling for his wand.

Goyle grinned brutishly, that is to say, naturally. "That's it," he said casually, throwing aside some random book he found under the couch cushion. "You're not important enough to appear in any more fanfictions."

"And I suppose you are?" retorted Nott scathingly, raising his hands.

Meanwhile, Draco had found the book Goyle had tossed aside and was examining it with ease, turning it between his slim fingers. "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," he muttered softly, glancing at the back cover. "By, ah, J.K. Rowling?"

Crabbe's head snapped up. "The author once again denies claiming to own any of Harry Potter," he intoned in a strangely deep and full voice. "Usually she would not do such a repetitive thing, but as many others do so in their second chapters, she also feels the urge to comply with that general unwritten rule."

Goyle blinked. "Hey, that's my deep voice that comes out of nowhere!" he growled.

Draco wasn't paying them much attention. "Chang?" he said softly, snickering for the first time in hours. "He likes Chang?" Utterly spellbound, Draco flipped several pages into the book, perfectly engrossed in the strange thing that documented…everything. It was delicious, something like finding Potter's diary under Weasley's moldy dress robes.

"What's that, Malfoy?" questioned Nott suddenly, bored with Crabbe and Goyle's continued debate. Seeing as there was a total lack of witty repartees being exchanged on either side, there was basically no entertainment in following them speak.

He was smirking violently, his eyes glued, fascinated, to the pages as he had never done before to any book. "I really am portrayed quite accurately by this author," he said, sounding impressed. "I mean, this isn't like other fanfiction. This is like…I mean, this is like _me_ in the book. I-I actually did this stuff, that's the thing…"

Goyle suddenly stopped arguing and raised his head seriously. "This is because J.K. Rowling does hold the original rights to these events." There was that weird voice again.

"Ah," said Draco distractedly. He suddenly doubled over with laughter, gasping and crying tears of mirth over the part he had arrived at. "Look at this!" he choked, shoving the pages at Nott. "I totally burned them after the Quidditch World Cup! Look! This makes me look so…" he paused. "Smooth."

But he was the only person who looked happy. Crabbe certainly didn't. "Okay, look, Draco," he said roughly, scowling. "You promised you would do anything we told you to do." Watching as Draco kept his eyes fastened to the enchanting words of the book, he gritted his two teeth into powder. Such was the force of his frustration that the author felt it appropriate to demonstrate it literally. "And I command you to drag Granger down here and marry her!" he finished screechingly, waving his arms for emphasis.

Everyone froze.

"Hey, look, Malfoy, you have a son named Scorpius!" said Nott merrily, who had reclaimed the laptop. "I'm certain of it! In fact, I've also done some research on this lexicon thing that says so. You get married to Asteria Greengrass."

Draco looked curious. "Who the heck is that?" he asked.

Nott snorted. "Yeah, I'd like to know too," he said meaningfully. "On here she's portrayed with at least ten different personalities."

At this time Crabbe was positively boiling. "I command you!" he howled, aiming his wand at Draco, "to get Granger down here and marry her!" He stopped, panting. It was purely ingenious. To base his former ringleader's torture off of a fanfiction…mwuahahaha…that was all Crabbe could think.

Goyle finally caught on. "Imperio!" he hissed, slashing at the air in front of Draco. "Obey him!"

Nott, who had pulled out his own wand to retaliate, was cast into a full-body bind. He watched hopelessly from the floor as a practically fainting Draco Malfoy unwillingly dashed out of the Slytherin common room to beyond, no doubt magically bound to perform his task…

Shuddering internally, Nott briefly wondered which fanfiction Crabbe had modeled the coming situation off of. Dang it, though. There were at least a billion of those forced marriages fanfictions…no doubt his choice had been from a wide variety.

Within minutes, Crabbe and Goyle came trudging back up, with Draco gritting his teeth in cold frustration as he dragged a screaming and immensely confused Granger into the room. Don't worry; the author assures all that their memories will be wiped in time for dinner. And it's not like Crabbe or Goyle would breathe this to a soul.

"Now," cackled Crabbe, rubbing his hands gleefully in anticipation. "You will tell the wizarding community that you have been forced into this marriage-"

"But we're only fourteen!" spluttered Granger, trying to twist her hair out of Draco's reluctant grasp. "We-I-I have my entire school years to finish, and then a career to pursue, and then there's-"

"Silencio!" barked Goyle, waving his wand. The author hopes that no one will notice how she had Hermione cut off right at the place the author lacked knowledge about what followed. Anyway, he continued where Crabbe had left off. "You will tell the wizarding community-" he leered at Granger "-that it is for the sole purpose of an inter-blood alliance. You will be released only when seventeen children have been produced in the union-" Draco made a sudden convulsing movement but could not budge his hand from Granger's hair "-by which time you will have fallen too deeply in love to have the heart to back out of it."

"No!" screamed Granger silently, kicking and lashing out in protest. Sadly, the author had thought to have Goyle remember to disarm her when they first went up for her to lessen complications of her breaking free. She continued to shrill without sound. "What about Ron? I love him! You can't take me away from him-"

"Oh, that's what you always say in the beginning," said Crabbe breezily, waving her off. "Except you actually mean it at first in the fanfictions."

Granger looked horrified. I mean, even more. "I do mean it!" she sobbed. But strangely enough, all of a sudden, a wand protruded from her closed fist.

How did this happen? Well, apparently Crabbe and Goyle were too busy pondering this deeply provocative problem to react, for the next moment, Granger had whipped the wand to both their faces and knocked them out with ingenious Stunning spells like the ones Crabbe and Goyle had used in the previous chapter.

Next, in case you care, she unfroze Nott but Stunned him as well. Same fate goes for poor Draco, whose sleek silver blonde hair (author is crying) was spread all messily across his forehead. Cackling lightly, she stowed the stick into her pocket, and while wondering how the heck she had been dragged down here into some stupid arranged marriage, worried about the consequences of this detour she had taken against her will. Reasoning so, all four of the boys' memories were modified as they lay unconscious.

Yeah, okay, so how the hell _did_ this happen? Well, my darling beloveds, this is called a plot hole. It occurs bloody often in fanfictions, and here is no exception. However, the only difference is that here I inserted it knowingly and chose to disclose this information to you shamelessly.

At this time, the little silver laptop zapped itself into the air, rose several hazy inches, then popped into a snake and slithered out the window rather hurriedly. You see, my writing begins and ends with the little silver laptop.

Yes, so right: _your_ reading journey, my young (and pedophile) grasshoppers, begins and ends with the silver laptop as well, consequently, predictably, and obviously. However, the author of this particular fanfiction absolutely _begs_ you not to let this be the very end of your journey. She begs you to end it with a delectable review. You see, she is heartbroken when people care but pretend not to care. Of course, it's even sadder when they really don't care, but, ah, anyway…

She pleads for you to review, basically.

Like, please.

Honestly.


End file.
